


Cold Without You Here

by trulymadlylarry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bottom Harry, Daddy Kink, Harry is a university student, Harry takes lots of baths, Louis is the VP of a car company, M/M, Masturbation, Sex Toys, Skype Sex, Sugar Baby Harry, Sugar Daddy Louis, Top Louis, long distance relationship drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 19:31:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4275306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trulymadlylarry/pseuds/trulymadlylarry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Keep warm, Lou.  There’s supposed to be a snow storm soon,” Harry tells him, remembering what he saw on the news earlier.  </p><p>“I will.  I’ll see you soon, okay?  I’ll be home before you know it.”</p><p>Harry nervously fiddles with the engagement ring on his finger.  “You’ll be back Friday the 13th, right?”</p><p>“Yup,” Louis says without hesitation.  “Just in time for Valentine’s day.”</p><p> </p><p>Or, the one where Louis is Harry's sugar daddy and goes on a business trip.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold Without You Here

It’s cold, Harry thinks.  He can feel a rush of frosty air filter against the bed, streaming out from the nearby air vent.  He pulls the covers closer, curling his legs up towards his stomach.  He shivers, squinting his eyes, and his teeth chatter.

He brushes his arm across the crisp, white sheets,  reaching for a warm body.  He finds nothing, however, except a wad of discarded blankets.  Harry opens his eyes and gives them a few seconds to adjust.  He blinks away the blurriness and rubs them with his knuckles, feeling the pressure of his ring against his skin.

“Lou?” he calls out into the empty bedroom.  

He glances over at the alarm clock.  It’s already 8:16 in the morning.  He overslept.

“Shit,” he breathes, throwing his blankets aside.  

He stands up from the bed, stretching his long, tired limbs.  He waddles out into the living room, crossing his arms over his chest because, damn, it’s still very cold.  He can feel goosebumps form on his porcelain skin.  

He steps over to the large bay window, green eyes wide and alert.  He looks outside and sees the driveway empty.  A knot forms in his stomach, twisting and tightening, as a frown settles on his bubblegum lips.

He rushes over to fetch his phone, which was left charging the night before in the kitchen.  He quickly types in his passcode but messes up a few times, hands shaking nervously.  He dials up Louis’s number and ignores the countless e-mails and game notifications popping up on his screen.

It rings twice before he picks up.

“‘ello love,” his boyfriend’s voice chirps.

Harry’s breath sharpens.  “You’ve left already?” he says impatiently.

Louis pauses.  “I left at half past six,” he replies, voice muffled in the speaker.  “I’m on my way to the airport right now.”

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” Harry asks, voice cracking.

“You looked so cute while you were sleeping,” Louis coos, and Harry can practically see his cheeky smile through the phone.

“I’m serious,” Harry presses.  “I wanted to say goodbye.”

“We said goodbye last night, didn’t we?”

Harry bites his lip, thinking back to the night before, images of snogging and cumming whipping through his brain.  “I suppose so,” he mumbles, mind drifting.  “But I wanted to see your face before you took off.”

“I’m sorry.  I’ll be back before you know it.”

“I dunno.  Six days is a long time,” Harry says and rubs the back of his neck.  He wanders around the kitchen mindlessly while Louis stays silent.  “You still there?”

“Yeah,” Louis replies.  “Yeah, I’m here.  We just pulled into the airport.”

“Oh,” the youngest whispers.  “Okay.  I’ll let you go then.  Will you call me when you get to Detroit?”

“Of course, baby.  I will as soon as I can,” he assures him.  “I promise,” he adds as an afterthought.  

“Keep warm, Lou.  There’s supposed to be a snow storm soon,” Harry tells him, remembering what he saw on the news earlier.  

“I will.  I’ll see you soon, okay?  I’ll be home before you know it.”

Harry nervously fiddles with the engagement ring on his finger.  “You’ll be back Friday the 13th, right?”

“Yup,” Louis says without hesitation.  “Just in time for Valentine’s day.”

“Alright.  I’ll see you then.”

“Take care, H.  I love you,” Louis reminds him, making his heart swell.

“I love you too,” he answers, “so much.”

“Don’t have too much fun without me,” Louis says before hanging up.

Harry sets his phone back on the counter, and he stumbles over to the stove.  He fetches the vintage kettle and starts up some tea, placing it down to boil.  

Somehow, he already misses Louis and the way he made his tea.  He misses how he’d kindly add two sugarcubes and a dash of milk, knowing that Harry liked his sweetened in the morning.

It’s only six days, he keeps reminding himself.  But he knows deep down that this will be the longest six days in his existence.  Since they started dating two years prior, Louis’s never been away for more than a few days.  This would be Louis’s most lengthy business trip yet.

You see, Louis is the vice president of a very successful automobile industry, Tommo Motor Company.  He constantly travels around the globe for model releases and typical business affairs.  Harry knew, when they first started going out, that it wouldn’t be easy.  He’s a very clingy person, and he always needs the attention on himself.

The loud whistle of the tea kettle snaps Harry out of his thoughts.  Yes, this would be a long six days indeed.

-

Later that afternoon, Harry decides to take a shower.  His hair feels greasy and he wants to wash his skin, to scrub away his sadness, perhaps.  He scampers into their shared bathroom, still wearing only his boxers.  His feet feel cold against the blue, tiled floor.  He reaches into the shower and switches it on, moving the knob towards the red ‘H.’

He sheds his pants and swings open the glass door, then steps inside, accidentally stubbing his big toe on the slight metal ledge.  He curses but tries to ignore the pain.  The hot, steamy water trickles against his skin.  He rolls back his shoulders and tries to relax his muscles.  Then he grabs the shampoo and squirts the clear liquid into his palm.  He lathers it into his long hair, which reaches a few inches past his shoulders when it’s wet.

Distantly, he hears his phone ringing, blasting Usher’s “Hey Daddy.”  Harry chuckles at first, remembering back when Louis stole Harry’s phone and changed his personal ringtone.  Then he realizes that, shit, Louis must be calling.  He switches off the water and quickly runs outside of the shower, not bothering to wash out his shampoo.  He scampers out to snatch his phone in the kitchen, stark naked and covered in soap and water.  His wet thumb leaves a watermark on his phone screen as he slides it to answer.

“Hello?” he rambles.  “Louis?”

“Hi,” Louis replies, and his voice sounds slightly confused.  “Did you just run a marathon?”

Harry realizes now that he’s breathing heavily into the phone, chest rising up and down.  He giggles and tries to catch his breath.

“No, but I just had to sprint out of the shower because I heard my phone ring,” he explains.

“Oh,” Louis responds.  “So  you’re naked?”

Harry snickers, leaning up against the counter.  “Mhm,” he nods.  

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Harry echos.  He briefly glances at the clock.  “Are you in Detroit already?”

“No.  I’m at a layover in Boston.”

“I see.  Was your flight okay?”

“It was a bit bumpy, but I’m alright.  How was your morning?”

“Lonely without you,” Harry answers honestly.

Louis pauses.  “I’m sorry, baby.  I wish there was something I could do.”

“Well, you could Skype me tonight, yeah?  It’d make me feel less alone.”

“Of course,” he agrees.  “But in the meantime, why don’t you ring some of your friends from uni?  Invite ‘em over.”

“Really?  You trust my mates in your beloved mansion?” Harry asks, eyes widening.

“ _Our_  beloved mansion,” Louis corrects, emphasizing the word ‘our.’  They shared everything, after all, from clothes to coffee mugs.

Harry likes the sound of that.  He smiles softly, glancing around at their white walls and shiny, hardwood floors.  

“Okay.  I’ll call Niall, or maybe Nick,” Harry decides, picking at a hangnail on his thumb.  “You sure you don’t mind?”

“It’s your house, too,” Louis reminds him.  “I’m not your babysitter, H.  You can do whatever you want.”

Harry snorts.  “ _Whatever_  I want?” he taunts.

He can sense Louis rolling his eyes.  “Don’t push it,” he warns.  He pauses, and Harry hears something in the background, the airport intercom.  “I’ve got to board my flight.  I’ll text you when I get to Detroit, alright?”

“Alright.  I love you,” Harry beams.

“I love you, too,” Louis says, and then he hangs up again.

A few seconds later, Harry saunters into the bathroom and snaps a foggy picture in the mirror, turning his waist a bit to capture his bare bum.  He looks at it, smirking, and then sends it to Louis with the caption ‘ _have a safe flight!_ ’  

He even has the audacity to add a winking emoji and the little plane.  

Louis replies a few minutes later, explaining how uncomfortable it is to have a boner on a plane.

-

“Shit!  Mate, watch out!” Niall curses, rapidly pressing all the buttons on the control in his hands.  

Now, they’re playing some game on Louis’s X-Box and, in all honesty, Harry can’t remember the name of it.  All he knows is that there’s zombies, guns, and that you press ‘Y’ to throw grenades.  He can’t quite figure out how to shoot, and he’s too embarrassed to ask, so he just throws grenades everywhere, watching the zombies explode on their eighty inch television screen.  His clumsy hands are too big for this task, he decides. He lets Niall take the lead.

“You’re awful at video games,” Niall grumbles, shaking his head.

Harry laughs, throwing another virtual grenade at the mob of invading zombies.  Niall shoots the survivors of the explosion, and the level promptly ends.  Harry lets out a sigh of relief.

“My heart is racing,” he complains.  “I hate video games.”

Niall chuckles.  “Then why’d you invite me over?”

“It’s lonely here,” Harry explains, pouting a bit.

“Yeah,” Niall scoffs.  “No kiddin’.  This place is huge.  I need to get myself a sugar daddy— or, erm, sugar mommy.”

Harry cocks his head.  “Louis is _not_  my ‘sugar daddy.’” he promises, adding finger quotations.

“He’s loaded, though,” Niall points out, taking another swig from his beer.  “I’ve never seen a man own so many suits.”

Harry rolls his eyes.  “I didn’t even know he was rich when we first started dating.  I thought he was just a normal bloke.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Niall mumbles.  “Either way, you’re one lucky bastard.”

“I guess,” Harry shrugs.

“Must be nice,” the Irishman continues, humming.  He looks around at the expensive furniture and gold-framed paintings.  

Harry stares down at his hands.  “It’s not, y’know, nice.  Sometimes it’s awful.”

“What’s awful?”

“Having a boyfriend who’s so… important.  Do you know how many days Louis was gone last year— on business trips?”

Niall shakes his head.

“Forty-seven,” Harry answers, voice low.   “He even missed my birthday last year. Can you believe that?  He was in Paris or somethin’.”

Niall frowns.  “I’m sorry, mate.  That’s rough,” he says, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“ ‘s okay.  It’s not your fault,” Harry mumbles.  “It’s not Lou’s fault, either.  I can’t, like, ask him to just  _not_  go.  It’s his job and he’s— he’s very passionate about it.”

“Does Louis know it upsets you?  Him being gone so much?”

Harry shrugs.  “I dunno.  I try to act like it doesn’t bother me, but it does.”

Niall gives him a consoling smile.  “It’s only six more days, right?”

Harry nods slowly.   “Yeah,” he sighs, dragging out his voice.  He glances back at the telly screen, clearing his throat.  “Anyway, let’s play the next level, okay?  We have zombies to kill.”

-

Later that evening, Niall drives home, after having defeated five levels of that dumb video game.  Harry hates the silence, though.  When he hears Niall’s car drive away, he’s left with nothing but still, quiet nothingness.  He notices the ticking of the nearby clock and the dripping of the leaking faucet in the kitchen.  Every little sound seems amplified in his lonesome.

Harry feels a tad chilly, so he walks over to the electric fireplace and switches it on.  He plops down on the sofa and fetches a quilted blanket, spreading it across his body.  It doesn’t quite reach his feet, though, so he has to pull them closer, curling into a small ball.  He knows he probably looks silly like this, but who cares?  Nobody is here to see him anyway.

He switches on the television and starts watching a random documentary about the creation of the universe.  It’s interesting, yes, but he finds himself closing his eyes every now and then.  Perhaps it’s because the screen keeps showing pretty stars and alluring constellations.  Or maybe it’s because the night before, Louis and Harry had been up until the wee hours of the morning, having three rounds of mind-blowing sex.  Or it could be a combination of both.

Either way, Harry is now snuggled up in the sofa, sipping a steamy cup of tea.  The warmth seems to melt away the worry in his stomach and the soreness in his throat.

Abruptly, his phone vibrates in his pocket.  He picks it up, smiling when he sees it’s a text from Louis.  

With excitement boiling beneath his skin, Harry scurries into their bedroom.  He grabs his MacBook air, a Christmas present from Louis, and settles into their king-sized bed.  As he waits for it to boot up, he fixes his hair in the mirror.  He knows Louis doesn’t care because he loves him no matter what, but he still wants to look good for him.

His screen lights up blue with an incoming video chat from Louis.  He grins and clicks the green ‘accept’ button.

Slowly but surely, his pixelated face begins to appear in his laptop screen.  He can see that it’s much lighter in Detroit than here, in cloudy, rainy Doncaster.  Louis’s scruff looks so rough and edgy, and Harry just wants to reach out and touch it, maybe rub his face against it.  He likes how it rubs against his inner thighs when Louis eats him out, leaving small, red scratches on his pale skin.  

Louis’s blue eyes look bright— sparkling, even— in this spectacular lighting.  He’s still wearing that stiff suit from his meeting, but Harry doesn’t mind one bit.  He looks incredibly handsome.  Harry admires how sharp he looks, with his defined cheekbones and precise jawline.  

“Hi baby,” Louis says, the first to speak up.

Harry’s breath shakes.  “Hey.”

“You look tired,” Louis notes, seeing his dark circles.

“ ‘m fine,” Harry assures him.  “How was your meeting?”

Louis gulps.  “It was… alright.  Boring, as usual.  I’ve never seen so many grumpy, old men in suits around one conference table.”

Harry giggles.  The very sight of his smile takes Louis’s breath away.

“That bad?”

“Yeah,” Louis admits.  “But let’s not talk about that.  How are you?  Did you just sulk around all day?”

“No.  Niall came over.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you two have fun?”

Harry shrugs.  “I guess,” he hums.  “But it’s hard to have fun without you, Lou.”

Louis sighs.  He stares down at his hands.  “Y’know, I don’t like being away so often, but the company—”

“I know, I know,” Harry interrupts, having had this conversation several times.  “But the company won’t let you take people with you on business trips, or whatever.  I understand.”

Louis bites the inside of his cheek.  “I’m sorry, babycakes.”

“I know you are.  ‘s alright.”

Louis goes silent for a few seconds.  He just stares at Harry’s pink, swollen lips in his laptop screen, mezmorized.  “God, I wish I was there.  I want to kiss you so badly.”

Harry intakes a sharp breath.  “I want to kiss you, too.”

Louis cups his stubbled jawline, giving Harry a crooked grin.  His eyebrows raise slightly.  “You look so good right now,” he says, amazed.  “You got me so hard during my flight.  I had to run off to the loo and rub it out.”

Harry bites his lip, red rising to his cheeks.  “Really?”

“Really,” Louis echos.  “You always look so fucking perfect.”

Harry darts his tongue out to wet his dry lips.  “You too.”

“And your hair is so pretty, too,” Louis continues.  “And your arse, and your thighs. I love it when you sit on my face and completely fall apart.  You look so, so lovely when I wreck you.”

Harry flushes, fidgeting with the laptop over his crotch.  “Louis,” he croaks, unable to say anything else.

“What?” Louis asks innocently.  “I can stop if you want.”

“No,” Harry gasps, accidentally.  He blushes even harder.

“You were so naughty earlier, yeah?  Sending me that photo.  Your arse looked so delicious,” he continues.  “You wanted to get me all riled up, didn’t you?”

Harry nods, leaning his head back against the headboard.  “Yeah, fuck,” he whispers.

“I love eating you out, darling.  I love the noises you make when I make you wet.  You’re so whiny.  Such a needy boy, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Harry whispers, eyes rolling back.  “Louis.”

“Are you getting hard already?  Just from me talking to you?”

Harry nods, slightly embarrassed, but too horny to care.

“You can touch yourself if you want,” Louis insists.  “Just put the laptop down, yeah?  I want to watch.”

Harry doesn’t waste another second.  He places the laptop down, scooting it towards the end of the bed.  He spreads his legs and pushes down his joggers and underwear, taking out his pink, semi-hard cock.  

Louis licks his lips as Harry spits in his hand and rubs it down his shaft, moaning.  He feels a rush of relief in his body and begins to stroke himself, faster, head bobbing slightly with each quick, precise movement.  Soon Harry’s hard and leaking, cock standing at its full length, and Louis’s eyes are glued on the screen.

“You look so good,” Louis huffs.  “You’ve got such a pretty cock.”

Harry whines, mouth hanging open.  Little gasps escape his lips with each hand movement.  He rubs his thumb over his head, and over the slit, collecting some precome.  

“Louis!” Harry gasps.

“Yeah, baby.  I love it when you scream my name,” his boyfriend says, squinting his eyes with amusement.

“Lou,” Harry chokes.  “I need— I just—”

Louis knows exactly what he means.  “Stop touching yourself,” he orders and, surprisingly, he does.  His chest is rising and falling at a rapid pace, and Louis can see tears collecting in the corners of his emerald eyes.  “Grab the dildo, yeah?  The purple one that you like so much?  It’s in the box under the bed.”

Harry obeys.  He ignores his painful erection and fetches the dildo and a bottle of his favorite lube.  As he sits back down, he hears Louis’s voice again through his laptop speakers.

“Pull your pants down all the way,” he orders.

Harry does.  He pushes them down to his ankles and kicks them aside, letting them tumble off the edge of the bed.  

“Slick up your fingers, okay?  Just one for now, though.”

Harry complies, squirting a dab of lube on his index finger.  He doesn’t like too much lube, because he actually  _does_  like it to sting a little, but not to the point that it’s painful.  Louis knows this, too.

Taking in a sharp breath, Harry presses the tip of his finger towards his clenching entrance.  Using his other hand, he adjusts the angle of the laptop so Louis can have a nice view.  Louis watches, sinfully, as his hands grip the armrests of the chair he’s sat at.  Harry’s finger slip in, enveloped by his tight muscle.  

He jabs it a few times before adding a second.  He needs more.  The more fingers he adds, the more it feels like Louis.  That’s how Harry sees it.

He thrusts them inside his hole, curling them various ways until he finds the  _perfect_  angle that hits him deep.  He moans as his fingertips brush up against his prostate.  Harry swears under his breath and adds a third finger, aiming for that same spot.

“Oh, fuck, yes,” he curses.  

“That feel good?” Louis asks, still having not touched himself.  He’s just enjoying watching Harry fall apart in front of him, on his laptop screen, thousands of miles away.  Each time he hits his prostate, his body jolts and his cock twitches.

“So, fuck, so good.  Can I?” he asks, gesturing to the dildo.

“Sure.  Anything you want, baby,” Louis assures him.

Harry murmurs out a string of ‘thank you’s and slicks up the dildo with some more lube.  He wastes no time pressing the toy to his entrance.  He pushes it in, slowly, giving himself time to adjust to the new shape.  The phallic-shaped object isn’t quite as long as Louis’s dick, but it’s even thicker, making the stretch quite difficult.  He pauses momentarily to get used to the intrusion.

Finally, he has the full length inside of him, and he starts thrusting it at a rapid pace.  He makes these pretty, soft moans each time the tip rubs against his sensitive spot.  

“You’ve got me hard again,” Louis comments, making Harry moan even louder.  “Look at yourself, baby.”

He does, eyeing himself in the small box in the corner of his laptop screen.

“You look so fucking beautiful.  You’re so perfect.  I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” Louis groans, slipping his cock out of his trousers.  

Harry nearly orgasms at the sight.  Louis’s cock is hard and swollen now, veins bulging out.  All Harry can think about is Louis hovering over him, filling him up to the brim, and all Louis can think about is thrusting into Harry’s tight, warm heat instead of his own fist.

They orgasm at the same time, amazingly.  Harry shoots his load all over his stomach, squirming with the dildo inside of him.  Louis curses as he cums all over his fancy “business” trousers.  Thankfully he brought more than one suit on this trip.  

They’re both silent for a moment, trying to catch their breath.  Harry falls back onto the bed, unable to support himself any longer.  He sprawls out with the laptop still between his legs.  Louis’s breath hitches when he looks back at his laptop screen, only to see a clear view of Harry’s arse with the dildo still inside, cum dripping down his body.

“Harry,” Louis says breathlessly.  “Mind moving your laptop?  As much as I love your bum, I’d like to see your face.”

It takes all of his strength, but Harry manages to tilt the screen.  He pulls out the dildo and wipes it off against the bed sheets.  He makes a mental note to wash them later.  He brings the laptop closer, moving it in front of his face.

Louis coos at the sight of him.  He looks freshly fucked and content, with droopy eyes and a silly smile on his face.  

“You alright?”

Harry hums.  “Just tired.”

“Got yourself all wound up,” Louis notes.  “You wanna go to sleep?”

“I want to… but you’re not here,” Harry yawns.  “I need my big spoon.”

“I want my little spoon, too,” Louis pouts.

“Will you stay on until I fall asleep?  Just like hearing your voice,” Harry asks, innocently, and Louis’s heart swells in his chest.

“Of course,” he answers.

And so Harry falls asleep to the sound of Louis whispering “goodnight” and “sweet dreams” and “I love you.”

-

It’s snowing by the time Harry wakes up, which isn’t unusual for February, he decides.  He notices the patches of snow collecting on the window screen and the way the light reflects against it, all sparkly and pretty.  He feels a little light headed at first, probably from the sudden burst of brightness.  Everything looks white and pure, dazzling in the outside sunshine, which is streaming in through the half-closed blinds.  He can even see tiny dust particles floating through the chilly air.

Groaning, Harry stands up, knees cracking.  He’s only twenty, but he’s always struggled with sore muscles and cracking bones.  He constantly has to make appointments with his chiropractor.  He once joked with Louis that they should hire his own personal chiropractor, since he visits the clinic so often.  Louis genuinely considered it, but had Harry laughed and said no, it was fine.

Now, Harry grabs his iPhone 6 plus (another Christmas gift from Louis) and slips on a pair of boxers, seeing as he was previously completely naked.  He walks out into the empty kitchen and scrolls through his unread texts and e-mails.  There’s one from his mother, asking him about his day.  There’s one from Niall, too, about Derby of course.  There’s another from his classmate, Liam, asking about Chemistry notes.  And then there’s Louis.

Harry grumbles, remembering that it’s Monday and, indeed, he needs to attend university.  He has an accounting class and a literature course.  Thankfully his class doesn’t start until noon.  When he looks over at the clock, it’s only 9:42.  

He decides to take a quick shower, seeing as he fell asleep the night before with cum all over his stomach.  He emerges clean and fresh, running a towel through his wet, long hair.  

And then he leaves for school, driving his silver Audi R8, which, obviously, had been another gift from Louis.  Needless to say, Harry’s very lucky to have such a generous boyfriend.

-

Accounting class is boring as always, but then again, Harry can’t expect much excitement from a subject about money.  Literature isn’t any better.  They spend an hour and a half discussing  _Frankenstein_ , and Harry nearly fell asleep a couple times.  

When the bell rings at 1:00 PM, Harry tosses his textbooks and binders into his green, canvas rucksack.  He swings it over his shoulder and heads for the food court.  It’s a long walk, sluggishly moving through the overcrowded hallways, but he keeps himself busy playing a game on his phone.  He bumps into a few people every now and then but, honestly, he couldn’t care less.

The food court is huge, with fountains and fake plants scattered across the white, tiled floors.  There are tiny tables sprinkled around the dining area with metal chairs surrounding them.  Harry chooses his typical spot, near the fountain, and sits down.  The chair’s legs screech against the floor as he slides it away.

He grabs a granola bar out of his backpack, peeling off the plastic wrapper.  He takes a bite and uses his free hand to dial Louis’s number.  

He picks up after three rings.

“Hey,” says Louis’s raspy voice.

Harry smiles.  “Hi.”

“Are you okay?”

Harry quirks an eyebrow.  “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

He hears Louis clear his throat.  “I mean, like, why are you calling me?”

Harry pauses.   “You said we’d talk at lunch, remember?”

Louis sighs, breath muffling through the speaker.  “Oh, right.  I’m sorry.  I forgot.  Today’s been absolute Hell.”

“Why?”

“I had to wake up at the asscrack of dawn and go to a meeting, and I haven’t had anything to eat all day.  Plus management has been nipping at my heels because of our company’s financial crisis and—”

“Louis?” Harry cuts him off.  “Breathe, okay?”

“It’s not funny,” Louis’s voice snaps back, sharply.

Harry falters.  “I— I wasn’t trying to be funny.”

Louis goes silent for a few seconds, and Harry can imagine him rubbing his temples like he always does when he’s frustrated.

“I know.  I’m sorry… I should go,” Louis rambles.

“Okay,” Harry says, cautiously.  “Will you call me tonight, then?”

“Maybe, if I have time,” Louis breathes.  “Bye.”

He hangs up before Harry has the chance to say goodbye.

-

Harry’s always been a sensitive person.  His biggest flaw is that he cares too much.  He notices everything and thinks about everything and cares about everything.  He  _feels_  every emotion, from his head to his toes.

When he was little, he hated being yelled at.  Whenever he made a mistake he’d cry for hours, apologizing over and over again, even if it wasn’t his fault.  He’s still the same to this day.  He knows he didn’t do anything wrong.  Louis was the one who got angry over nothing.  But, still, Harry feels the need to cry and apologize and eat lots and lots of ice cream.

So he texts Louis a series of “I’m sorry” messages.

He stops after the fourth message.  Then he retreats to their bedroom, wrapping himself in the comforters because they still smell faintly of Louis’s rich, Ralph Lauren cologne.  Harry has a quart of cookie dough ice cream in his lap and a giant spoon in his hand.  He drowns his unnecessary sorrows in Ben & Jerry’s and re-runs of  _Say Yes to the Dress_.

Harry isn’t sure why he loves this show so much.  Perhaps it’s because he’s in love with the thought of love.  He likes seeing happy (or unhappy) brides picking out their fairy tale dresses.  Regardless, he ends up binge watching twelve episodes back to back.

Throughout the night, Harry keeps his phone in arm’s reach in case Louis decides to call.  But he doesn’t.

-

Harry awakes a few hours later to the feeling of his phone vibrating.  Sluggishly, he slides his thumb to answer and presses it against his ear.

“Wha’?” he says, half-asleep.  He’s sort of in a limbo state now, between slumber and consciousness.

“Harry?” Louis’s concerned voice says.

Harry blinks a few times.   “Lou?” he croaks.

“Did I wake you up?” Louis worries, hearing the grogginess in his tone.

“Yeah,” Harry mumbles.  He glances over at the alarm clock.  “It’s three o’clock in the mornin’.”

Louis curses under his breath.  “Shit, yeah.  I forgot about the time difference.  It’s only ten at night here.”

“Wha’ do you want?” Harry asks, wanting to get to the point.

Louis freezes.  “You can go back to sleep if you’d like,” he offers, slowly.  “We can talk later.”

“No.  It’s fine.”  He sits up properly in the bed, running a hand down his sleepy face.

“It’s not fine.  Don’t tell me it’s fine.  I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier,” Louis apologizes.

The youngest pauses, words caught in his throat.

“You there?”

“Yeah,” Harry murmurs.  “Yeah, I’m still here.  I just— why did you get so angry?  You’re the one who suggested having a chat during lunch.”

Louis sighs.  “I don’t know, H.  I was tired, I guess.  The meeting today was so long.  In fact, it just got out a few minutes ago.  There were just so many questions, and I was still a bit jetlagged.”  

He hears Louis’s voice fade away at the end, like he was thinking about complaining more but then decided against it.  

“ ‘s alright,” Harry grumbles, tiredly.

Louis’s breath tickles the speaker, echoing in Harry’s ear, and for a moment he wonders if he’s sat in bed next to him.  He can still smell him and hear him.  He just can’t touch or see.

“Was school good today?” Louis inquires, changing the subject.

“Yeah, it was fine,” he lies, not wanting to get into the boring details.  Abruptly, a yawn ripples through Harry’s core.  He hears Louis laugh softly at that.

“I’m sorry for waking you up, baby.  You can go back to sleep,” he chuckles.

Harry bites his lip.  “Okay.  Can we Skype later, then?”

“No,” Louis huffs.  “I’m sorry.  Tomorrow’s not a good day.  I might be able to squeeze in a few texts throughout the day…  _maybe_  a text or two.”

Harry blinks, silent.  “Why not?”

“I’m going to Chicago tomorrow.”

“Chicago?  But I thought you were in Detroit.”

“I am.  Change of plans.”

Harry intakes a sharp breath.  “Change of plans?”

“Yeah.  It’s just— business stuff.  I won’t bore you with the details.”

Harry opens his mouth to say something, but then closes again, like a fish out of water.  “This won’t, like, extend your trip, will it?”

“No, no, no,” Louis rambles.  “I told you.  I won’t even be gone for a week.”

“Alright.  I guess just ring me when you’re not busy, okay?”

Louis stifles a laugh.  “It’s a business trip, Harry.  I’m always  _busy_.”

Harry swallows the lump in his throat.  “Oh.  Okay.”

“Go back to sleep, yeah?  I’ll ring you whenever I can.”

“Right,” Harry huffs.  “Bye.”

“Sweet dreams, Haz.”

Ironically, Harry doesn’t dream at all that night.  He just has terrible nightmares.

-

Harry’s in the kitchen making himself breakfast when the doorbell rings.  Still wearing only a blue robe and slippers, he shuffles over to the foyer and stands in front of the corridor.  With tired, blurry eyes, he peers through the peephole.  He expects to see a delivery man or perhaps a neighbor with accidental mail, but instead he finds Niall, grin spread wide across his face.  

He looks rather cheerful, given the circumstances, but then again he practically glows sunshine.  His blond hair is swept to the side, with dark brown roots peeking through.  His blue eyes seem to shimmer in this lighting, sort of like the shiny, crisp snow.

Harry opens up with door without saying a word.  His confused expression says it all.

Niall chuckles.  “Well it’s nice to see you, too,” he jokes.

“What’re you doing here?  It’s, like, really early,” Harry complains, but still steps aside to let him in.  It’s freezing outside, after all.

Niall laughs, wiping his snow-covered boots on the welcome mat.  “It’s nearly noon, mate,” he reasons.  

He rolls his eyes.  “Whatever.  Why didn’t you call?”

“I did,” Niall says, confused.  “Twice, actually.  You didn’t answer.”

Harry just shrugs.  “I haven’t checked my phone.”

“Really?  Usually when Lou’s away, you never let it leave your side,” he teases, nudging his stomach.

“Yeah, but there’s no use since he doesn’t wanna talk to me,” Harry huffs.  He feels silly complaining because, after all, he’s dating a millionaire.  But what can he say?  He’s needy.

“What makes ya’ think that?” Niall asks, eyebrows furrowed.  “Did you two have a fight?”

“No,” Harry says quickly.  “Well, sort of.  I don’t know.”

“Well, you know Louis.  He’s always grumpy on business trips.”

“Yeah, towards his coworkers.  He’s never snapped at me before.”

Niall goes silent for a few seconds.  “Don’t worry too much, mate.  He’ll come around.”

Harry shrugs again.  “I guess.”

The Irishman looks Harry up and down, eyes squinted.  “You might wanna put on some clothes, Styles.”

Harry crosses his arms over his chest, feeling the robe’s soft, fluffy material.  “Why?  I’m quite comfortable in this.”

“I’m takin’ you to the mall,” Niall explains.

“The mall?” Harry asks, eyebrow cocked.  “Why?”

“Because you’ve been cooped up in this goddamn mansion for three days,” he laughs.

Harry rolls his eyes, trudging towards the bedroom.  “Fine.  If it’ll make you happy.”

As always, he’s a people pleaser.

-

“What do you think of this one?” Niall inquires, positioning the green snapback on his head of dirty blond hair.  It’s a tad too big, so the lid droops down, nearly covering up his eyes.  He looks like a frat boy, Harry thinks, but he doesn’t dare say it out loud.  

They’re now in a dimly-lit shop in the middle of the mall.  It’s full of piercings, hats, tank tops, and sunglasses.  It’s a fuckboy’s paradise, honestly, and Harry feels quite out of place in his floral blouse, skinny jeans, and leather boots.

He just shrugs, and Niall sighs, putting the hat back on the shelf.

“You’re really crushing my vibe,” he tells Harry.

The curly-haired boy forces a smile.  “I’m having fun, I promise.  I just don’t care for snapbacks, ‘s all.”

“Fine,” Niall huffs, “then what do you want to buy?”

Harry shrugs again.  “I dunno.  I don’t really need anything.”

Niall grabs another snapback, this time in blue.  He proceeds to the checkout with Harry following behind like a lost puppy.  

“You may not need anythin’, but do you  _want_  somethin’?” Niall presses as they stand in line in front of the cash register.

Harry chews on the inside of  his cheek.  “Not really, I mean— usually when I want something, Lou gets it for me.”

“But Lou’s not here right now!” Niall points out, exhausted.  “Your life doesn’t revolve around your boyfriend.  You can have fun without him, you know?”

Harry frowns.  “But I’m not sure if I even want to have fun without him.”

Niall rolls his eyes.  “You’re whipped,” he remarks.  

It’s their turn in line, so Niall hands the cashier the snapback.  He gives him the money, with exact change, and thanks him.  The hat bounces in the plastic bag in time with Niall’s walk, bouncing against his leg.  They exit the store in silence, until Niall tugs Harry’s arm to follow him.

“Where are we going?” Harry asks, eyebrows quirked.  “I wanted to go to Lush.  I need more bath bombs.”

Niall rolls his eyes.  “We’ll go there later.”

“Why?” Harry asks as Niall tugs him up the escalator.  He nearly trips over the moving stairs, but then regains his balance by placing his hand on the railing.

They turn into section of the mall, and Harry’s eyes widen.

“Are you kidding me?” he hisses.

“What?” Niall asks innocently, fluttering his eyelashes.

“You know what, you twat,” Harry says, smacking his arm lightly.  “You’re taking me to Victoria’s Secret, aren’t you?”

Niall smirks.  “Maybe.”

“No, no, no,” Harry says, shaking his head.  “Absolutely not.”

“Why not, mate?  You once told me that you like wearing lingerie and that it makes you feel pretty,” Niall says, casually, as if they’re talking about the weather.

Harry’s cheeks flush.  “When did I tell you that?!”

Niall shrugs.  “A couple months ago, I suppose.  You were drunk.”

Harry wants to make up an excuse, that he was only joking, but he knows Niall won’t believe it.  He’s never been more embarrassed in his life.  He can feel his blood simmer underneath his skin, heating up his complexion, and for a second he wonders if he’s on fire.

“There’s nothin’ to be embarrassed about,” Niall says, winking, which only makes it worse.  “We all have our kinks.”

“I’m not kinky!” Harry whisper-shouts, seeing as they’re standing in the middle of a busy shopping mall.

“Says the one who has his boyfriend saved as ‘daddy’ in his contacts,” Niall snorts.

Harry grumbles, muttering various swear words under his breath, and covers his face with his hands.   He can’t believe what he’s hearing.

“Listen, I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable,” Niall explains, quietly.  “I”m just trying to say— you don’t need Louis to have fun, alright?  You can do things for yourself.  Not everything has to be for him.  It’s okay to pamper yourself every once and a while.”

Harry bites his lip, pondering.  “Wouldn’t it be awkward?  You know— going into Victoria’s Secret?  Seeing as we’re both lads?”

Niall shrugs.  “So what?  Just say that you’re buying somethin’ for your girlfriend.  Lots of guys buy lingerie for their significant others on Valentine’s Day.”

Harry hesitates, biting his lip.  “Well I  _do_  like red lace,” he mumbles, eyeing the lacy panties on the model in the window.

Niall smirks.  “That’s what I thought.”

And so twenty minutes later, Harry walks out of Victoria’s Secret with two new pairs of panties.  One of them is pink in a heart-printed pattern.  The last is red and outlined with lace.  And when he tries them on in the dressing room, he does a little twirl in the mirror, eyeing the way the fabric curves around his arse.

Niall was right, Harry decides.  He doesn’t need Louis to feel good about himself.

-

Harry hasn’t tried contacting Louis in a while, fearing that he might annoy him.  Now it’s been three days since they’ve last talked on the phone— two since Niall dragged him out of the house.  It’s Wednesday, and Louis will be back Friday.  Something about him flying back on Friday the 13th sends a shiver down Harry’s spine.  

His phone is on full volume in case Louis decides to send him a message or call, but sadly, it hasn’t made a peep all day.  The lack of communication is eating Harry alive, but he has a feeling Louis doesn’t feel the same way.  He probably has more important things on his mind— business things.

Still, snuggled up in the living room recliner, Harry’s mind drifts to Louis once again.  He wonders what he’s up to.  Maybe he’s in a big conference room, shuffling through paperwork, or perhaps he’s back at his hotel, sleeping.  Harry isn’t sure.  Frankly, he doesn’t even know what time it is in Chicago, or Detroit, or whatever godforsaken American city Louis’s at.  He stopped keeping track long ago.  

He read somewhere that if someone really loves you, they’ll always find time for you.  Clearly that quote doesn’t apply to his relationship with Louis.

Now he’s watching a film, sipping tea from his (Louis’s) mug.  Of course, it’s got the Yorkshire tea logo on the side.  His long fingers curl around the mug, overlapping, and he feels his ring press against its edge.  The steam whispers against his skin, and for a second it feels like Louis is breathing against his lips, panting hotly.  

It’s the middle of the afternoon, now, and he’s hardly moved all day.  He decided to skip school.  He wasn’t in the mood to sit in lecture halls for hours on end.  He’d much rather sit at home in his cozy mansion, lounging around in his underwear, stuffing his face with Chinese food.  

He needs to keep himself busy, Harry decides.  He can’t just keep doing the same thing— eating, sleeping, watching television.  He needs to have a purpose. The house is fairly messy, he notes, glancing around the living room.  There’s cups and dirty dishes piling up in the kitchen, too.  Plus the floors need to be vacuumed.

But the couch is just so comfy.  

-

Harry’s on his third episode of  _Modern Family_  when his phone lights up next to him, ringing loudly, echoing through the mansion’s empty walls.  Harry frowns and picks it up, letting it ring a few more times.  He doesn’t want to seem eager to answer (even though he is).

“Hey,” he answers, calmly.

“Hi babe,” Louis replies, voice scratchy through the phone.  “I’m sorry I haven’t called or texted.  I’ve been so busy.”

Harry gulps.  “ ‘s fine.”

Louis coughs.  “So, how ya’ feeling?”

Terrible, Harry thinks.  Unwanted. Unloved.  Worthless.  Lonely.  Desperate.  But he doesn’t dare say those words out loud.  Instead, he settles for, “Okay.”

“You sure?  You don’t sound okay,” Louis says, doubtfully.

“I said I’m okay,” Harry repeats, purposely adding a hint of agitation to his voice.  

He isn’t sure why he’s acting so harsh.  After all, Louis  _did_ find the time to call him.  Isn’t that what he wanted?  Nevertheless, he feels hurt, like his heart’s been ripped out of his chest, and Louis’s trying to sew it back together, but it’s just— it’s not enough,

He wonders if Louis ever feels this way when he’s away, too.  Perhaps Harry is the only one who truly cares.

“Alright,” Louis says after a few seconds.  “How was your day?”

“Boring.” Harry comments, biting his lip.  “Yours?”

“Exhausting.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.  I had a twelve hour meeting.  Can you believe it?  The powerpoint was quite boring as well,” Louis rambles, trying to fill the silence between them.  “And my boss kept nagging me about graphs and pie charts.  It was utter torture.”

Harry swallows the lump in his throat.  “That sounds awful.”

“I suppose.  But I did do some sightseeing around Chicago today.  I went to the Sears Tower, too.  I’ll send you pictures later.”  

“Sounds like you’re having a blast,” Harry says, somewhat bitterly.

“It’s nice here, you know?  It’s good to get out of England every now and then,” Louis rationalizes.  

“Every now and then?” Harry huffs quietly.  “That’s an understatement.”

Louis goes silent for a few seconds.  “What was that, babe?  I’m sorry.  I can’t hear you very well on my end.”

Harry freezes and pinches his eyes shut.  He opens them again, trying to ignore the burning in his throat and the sting in his eyes.  He looks over at the framed photographs on the windowsill— frozen moments of their lives together.  But they haven’t taken a picture together in quite some time, Harry thinks.  He wonders what happened to preserving memories.

“Hello?  Sweetheart?  Did I lose you?” Louis’s voice crackles through Harry’s ear.  “Damn it.  Stupid phone.”

Harry sniffles.  “No, I’m still here.”

“Oh,” Louis sighs.  “I’m sorry.  There’s a snowstorm in Chicago right now.  It must be interfering with our connection or something.”

“Right,” Harry replies softly.

“Anyway, what were you saying?”

Harry fiddles inattentively with the hem of his blanket.  It’s warm, yet slightly scratchy, sort of like Louis’s scruff.  Oh, how he misses the feeling of Louis’s stubble rubbing up against his neck, tickling his collarbones.  

“ ‘s nothing,” he whispers, fearing that his speaking voice will give away the fact that he’s close to tears.

“Alright.  Well like I was saying, I went sightseeing with some coworkers and then  we went out to get deep dish pizza.  It was great, Haz.  I wish I could bring some home,” Louis laughs.

“That’s— that’s great, Lou,” Harry mumbles.

“Oh, and I bought a new jumper as well.  You’ll probably end up stealing it.  You always do,” Louis jokes.

Normally Harry would’ve giggled, maybe even blushed, but right now he doesn’t say anything.  He just purses his lips, staring at the blank wall in front of him.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Louis presses.  “You’re not very chatty.”

“I’m fine,” Harry answers, perhaps too quickly.  “I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

“You tired?” Louis hums.

“Yeah.  Niall took me out to the mall earlier this week.  I never knew a shopping trip could make me exhausted for days,” Harry murmurs.

He hears Louis exhale, breath stifled through the speaker.  “Oh, so Niall listened to me?”

Harry quirks an eyebrow.  “What do you mean?”

Louis pauses momentarily.  “Well I— I called Niall the other day.  I asked him to get you out of the house.”

Harry scoffs, shaking his head.  “I’m not a child, Lou.  I can handle my own social life.  It’s not your job to call my friends and ask them to spend time with me,” he hisses.

Louis goes silent.  “I— I know that, Harry.  I was just trying to do something nice.”

“Well stop,” Harry snaps.  “I’m not your responsibility.”

“You’re my boyfriend, Harry,” Louis reminds him.  “Fiance, actually.  I care about you, is all, and you sounded absolutely miserable alone in that mansion.”

Harry blinks away the tears collecting in the corners of his emerald eyes.  He looks down at his hand, examining the ring on his finger.  He twirls it around, frowning.

“Well maybe if you didn’t leave me alone, I wouldn’t be so miserable in the first place,” Harry sneers.  “It’s not my fault that my own boyfriend left me alone the week before Valentine’s Day and—”

“Harry, just stop it, alright?” Louis interrupts, sighing out of frustration.  “I understand that you hate it whenever I travel, but what am I supposed to say?  I’m sorry, damn it!  What do you want me to do, huh?  You want me to quit my job?  You want me to give up my position as Vice President because you can’t stand being alone for a few days?”

Harry’s crying now, but not out of sadness— out of anger, defensiveness, and outrage.  His hand is curled up in a fist around his blanket, turning his knuckles white, and his other hand is grasping the phone so tightly it might shatter.  His chest is heavy, like bricks, and he feels like his world is falling apart.

“It’s more than a few days, Louis!  Your schedule is covered with red x’s,” Harry says, referring to the calendar in their kitchen.  

Louis always marks it whenever he’s arranged to go on a business trip, so Harry knows when exactly he’ll be gone.  Those stupid red x’s haunt him in his nightmares.  “Do you know how many days you’re scheduled to be gone this year?” Harry continues, voice softer.

“I don’t know, thirty or so?” Louis murmurs.

“Fifty-three,” Harry answers quickly.  “I counted.  And that’s not including surprise business trips.  Those are just the prearranged ones.”

Louis intakes a sharp breath, and Harry gulps, wiping away the tears with the heel of his hand.  He doesn’t want to be like this.  He wants to be strong, but it’s just— it’s so  _frustrating_  to not be heard by the one person you love.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” Louis whispers into the phone.

Harry’s eyes pinch shut.  He sniffles.  “Is that all you have to say?”

“I don’t know what else there is to say,” Louis replies, honestly.

Harry curls in his lips, phone slightly shaking in his jittery hand.  He’s quiet again, and Louis takes a few seconds to breathe and let the waters settle between them.

“Okay, then.  I’ll see you on Friday the 13th,” the eldest says coldly.

“Okay.  See you then,” Harry mumbles.  “Bye.”

As soon as he hangs up, Harry falls apart completely, hugging a pillow close to his chest.  He only wishes he was holding Louis instead.

-

Thursday is quiet.  Harry decides to clean the mansion because, frankly, he needs something to keep his mind off Louis.  He spends the entire day scrubbing floors and dusting furniture.  By dinnertime, he reeks of cleaning chemicals ranging from lemon scented to ‘fresh meadow breeze,’ whatever that means.  He never knew wind had a scent, but it does, according to his multi-purpose Windex cleaner.

He’s too tired to stand in the shower, though, so he settles for a bubblebath instead.  He trudges into the bathroom and fills up the tub, adding in a splash of vanilla scented soap.  Harry loves the smell— it reminds him of warm vanilla cupcakes.  

He swirls his hands around in the warm water, watching as a layer of white foam begins to bubble on top.  He switches off the water when it reaches a good temperature.  Then, he strips off his clothes and places his ring next to the sink.  He lowers himself into the bathwater, sighing in relaxation, and flutters his eyes softly.  The hot, steamy water curls up against his skin, lapping over  his sore muscles and aching bones.

He can see the steam float up from the water, twirling around in a pretty ballet.  He wiggles his long legs, watching as the bubbles move around them, like the sea parting for Moses.  His toes curl and uncurl again, and he fiddles with the tap on the opposite end of the tub.

Harry’s skin is starting to prune up and turn pink, and he can see the condensation forming on the nearby mirror, fogging up his reflection.  He washes his hair briefly, scrubs his body with his favorite purple loofah, and then steps out of the tub.  He quickly fetches a fluffy towel and secures it around his waist, and then shakes his head like a dog, flicking water droplets across the tiled flooring.  

He staggers into his and Louis’s bedroom, legs still wobbly from the bath.  He fishes through Louis’s dresser and finds a pair of his boxers.  Harry loves the scent of his underwear, and its particular softness, and how they fit tightly, clinging to his thighs and curving around his arse.  

It’s nighttime now, and the sun has long since vanished from the sky.  The mansion is darkening, drowning its corners with blackness.  Harry switches on the dim yellow lights, but the room still feels dull and gloomy.

He steps over to the window and pulls back the navy blue curtains.  He can faintly see stars pricking the night sky, and it’s snowing, filtering snowflakes through the moonlight.  Just from looking outside, he suddenly feels colder, goosebumps pricking up from his pallid skin.

He hears a faint buzz, and at first he thinks it’s the heater kicking in, but it’s just his phone vibrating on the bedside table.  He snuggles into the giant bed and wraps himself in the blankets like a cocoon.  He snatches up his phone and narrows his eyes at its bright screen.  It’s Louis, of course, for the first time all day.  Harry sighs and chokes down the lump in his throat.

Harry’s startled by Louis’s firm tone, and even through text he can tell things between them are still tense from the night before.  He opens up the app and calls Louis.  Eventually, he answers and his face appears on Harry’s small screen.  It’s still light out in Chicago, he soon realizes, as he notices daylight streaming on Louis’s sharp facial features.

“Hi,” Louis’s voice lags.

Harry forces out a fake smile.  “ ‘ello.”

“You just get out of the shower?” Louis wonders, noticing his shirtlessness and dripping wet hair.

“Yeah,” Harry says dully.  

“Seems like this is a reoccurring thing,” Louis hums.  “Not that I’m complaining.”

Harry laughs softly.  “Yeah.”

Louis’s voice vanishes for a few seconds.  On the screen, his face freezes.  

“Listen,” he exhales.  “I don’t know how else to say this, so I’m just gonna tell you.  Something came up with the business.  The company we’re working with really liked our proposal, about aerodynamic body frames, and they suggested that we work together—”

“You realize I don’t understand a word you’re saying, right?” Harry interrupts.

“Right, sorry,” Louis breathes.  “But to summarize, basically… they want me to fly out to Los Angeles.”

Harry rubs the back of his neck.  Great, he thinks,  _another_ business trip.

“Oh,” he mumbles, trying to hide his disappointment.  “When?”

Louis blinks silently.  He stares down at his hands folded up in his lap.  “Tomorrow,” he replies, voice cracking.

Harry’s breath shakes as he swallows the nervous lump in his throat.  “Tomorrow?”

Louis nods.  He doesn’t have enough strength to speak.

“But… but you’ll at least be home in time for Valentine’s Day, right?”

Louis shakes his head, ever so slowly.  “No.”

Harry’s eyebrows crease together.  “You promised.”

Louis frowns.  “I’m sorry, but it’s— it’ll give you some time to cool off, right?  I mean, we sort of got in a fight last night.  Maybe this is a good thing.”

Harry makes a fist with his hand, pressing his nails into his palm.  “I was angry because I miss you, Louis!”

“Really?  Because last time I checked, you were screaming at me.”

“I was screaming at you because I love you, you fucking idiot!  And that’s why I’m screaming at you now— because I love you!  While I was here alone, missing you, you were out having the time of your life halfway across the world,” Harry spits out.

Louis bites his bottom lip.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t know you felt that way.  I thought—”

“That’s the thing, Louis.  You don’t think.  Lately, it seems that you only think about yourself and your job.”

Louis shakes his head.  “I work to give us a good life, Harry.  I work so we can have a place to live.  I work so we have food on our table.  I work so I can put you through university.  Why don’t you understand that?”

“I don’t need money!” Harry nearly screams, hand squeezing around his phone.  “I need  _you_!  I need a real boyfriend, not a virtual one!  I’m sick and tired of seeing our relationship through a screen!”

Louis frowns.  “But Harry—”

“Shut up,” Harry blurts out.  “Just stop talking.  I’ll see you when you get back from LA, whenever that is.”

Before Louis can answer, Harry hangs up.  

That night, Harry sleeps on Louis’s side of the bed where it’s colder.

-

Harry isn’t sure what sound wakes him up first.  It might’ve been the heater switching on, or perhaps the car pulling in the driveway, or the front door opening.  Either way, he wakes up extremely disoriented and confused.  He sits up sharply, like a jack-in-the-box springing to life.  His heart thuds in his chest.

He wonders if a robber broke into their mansion.  He glances out the window and sees a black car he doesn’t recognize.  It’s dawn, and the sun is still mellow and the clouds are dark and grey.  His eyes widen in fear as he stands up, legs wobbly.  

Out of instinct, he fetches a bottle of pepper spray from one of Louis’s rubbish drawers.  Back when he bought the spray, Harry thought it was unnecessary and silly, but now he’s eternally grateful for Louis’s paranoia.  Since Harry’s afraid of guns and refused to allow one in the house, he settled for pepper spray instead.  

He tiptoes out into the living room, hand on the bottle’s trigger.  His hands shake and his feet tremble.  Despite having just woken up, he’s alert with adrenaline pumping through his veins.  

“Hello?” he calls out.  He listens to his voice echo, eerily.

Suddenly, he feels a hand on his shoulder.  Harry’s stomach drops as he spins around on his heel, pressing down on the pepper spray nozzle.  It squirts the chemicals into a pair of surprised blue eyes.

“Louis?!” Harry screams, dropping the can.

His boyfriend collapses to his knees, screaming out in pain, and cups his hands against his eyes.  He doesn’t touch them, though.  It stings too much.  His teeth clench together as his head tilts towards the ground.

“Oh my god!” Harry shouts.  He grabs Louis’s arm and blindly rushes him into the nearby kitchen.  “I’m so sorry!”

“What the Hell?!” Louis screams.  “Where’s the bloody sink?”  He reaches around cluelessly, hands fluttering across the counter, searching for the faucet.

“Here,” Harry rambles.  He ducks Louis’s head into the large sink and switches on the tap, and then moves his small hands under the steady stream of cold water.  “Cup some water and splash it into your eyes, okay?” he stutters, too confused and shocked to think properly.

Harry snatches Louis’s phone from his back pocket and searches ‘pepper spray in eyes,’ needing some instructions.  They’ve owned that bottle for a little over a year now, yet neither of them know exactly what to do in this situation.

“Um, it says to wash your eyes with soap!” Harry reads out loud.

Louis winces.  “Doesn’t soap sting?!”

“I don’t know!  Just— c’mere!” Harry nearly screams.  

He tilts up Louis’s chin to face him, fingers guiding underneath his sharp jawline.  He reaches for the soap pump and squirts a dab onto his index finger.  He rubs it over Louis’s eyelids and dark circles, and then splashes water over them again, washing the soap out.

“Ow, fuck, Harry,” Louis curses, pinching his eyes shut even tighter.

“It says after the soap, rinse your eyes out for a couple minutes,” Harry reads again, scrolling down through Louis’s phone browser.

Louis nods and leans over the kitchen sink again.  He cups the water into his hands and splashes it back onto his face.  He forces himself to blink a few times, trying to flush out the burning chemicals.

“I’m so sorry,” Harry says in the midst of the panic.  “I thought you were a robber!”

Louis sighs loudly and splashes more water into his eyes.  Harry rubs his back soothingly, mumbling out a string of apologies.  

“I feel so bad,” the youngest continues.  “But you— you said you’d be in LA.”

Louis switches off the faucet and snatches up a nearby rag.  He dabs his eyes, patting them dry.  When he opens them again, his eyes are bloodshot and puffy.  He blinks them a few more times and squints them while looking up towards Harry.

This is his first time seeing Harry—   _really_  seeing him—  in nearly a week, and he can’t believe this boy is his.  He just rolled out of the bed, yet he looks like he should be on the runway.  He missed this.  He didn’t realize it before, but he missed Harry.

“I came home early because I love you, you idiot,” Louis says, shaking his head.

Harry frowns.  “But you— what about LA?”

“I told my boss I wanted to quit my job,” Louis explains.  

Harry’s eyes widen in surprise. “You did  _what_?”

Louis’s lips quirk up in a small smile at Harry’s reaction.  Harry’s heart flutters in his chest.  Oh how he missed that sly smile.

“I told him I wanted to quit,” he repeats, grabbing Harry’s hands delicately.  “I don’t want to work for a company that keeps me away from the love of my life on Valentine’s Day— especially if it upsets you.”

Harry shakes his head, mouth wide open in shock.  “Are you serious?  Lou, you’re the vice president!  Can you seriously just quit like that?”

“Theoretically, yes.  But when I went to give my letter of resignation, my boss said the company would crumble without me.  He practically begged me to stay and said he’d do anything to keep me.  So we compromised.”

Harry raised an eyebrow in curiosity.  “What kind of compromise?”

“He agreed to cut my business trips in half this year, and he said we’d work with virtual conference meetings instead so I can stay at home more often,” Louis began, grinning.  “ _And_  he even said I could take you with me, whenever I have to go out of town.”

Harry shook his head in disbelief.  “That’s incredible, Louis.  I can’t believe you did that for me.  Thank you so much.”

Louis nods and wraps his arms around Harry, squeezing his love handles.  His fingers rub over the tattoos on his hips, the long ferns, and his skin feels warm and soft, like velvet.  He pulls Harry closer and presses a light kiss on the tip of his nose.  

“I didn’t just do this for you.  I did it for  _us_ ,” Louis clarifies.  

“But how did you get here so fast?” Harry ponders out loud.

“As soon as you hung up last night, I went to talk to my boss.  I wanted to come home and make sure you were okay.  I was worried sick.  I couldn’t— I couldn’t stand seeing you so upset,” Louis says, frown across his cherry lips.  “And after I talked with my boss and explained the situation, he let me use his private jet to come here ASAP, and then I took an Uber to the house.”

Harry’s mouth forms into an ‘o.’  “That’s why there was a strange car parked in the driveway,” he realizes.  “I didn’t recognize it, so I thought someone was trying to break into our house.”

Louis chuckles quietly.  “No.  I was trying to be quiet and surprise you in bed, but clearly that didn’t work out in my favor,” he jokes, gesturing to his puffy eyes, rimmed with red.

“Yeah,” Harry drawls.  “I’m sorry ‘bout that.  Does is still hurt?”

“It stings a little, yeah,” Louis admits, shrugging.  “But ‘s alright.”

“Can you—  can you see alright?” Harry asks, nervously biting his bottom lip.

Louis blinks his eyes and rubs the bridge of his nose.  “Sort of— burns a bit to keep them open, though.”

“Can I do anything to help?  I feel so bad,” he apologizes.  “C’mon, let’s go sit on the sofa.”

He grabs one of Louis’s hands delicately as if he’s made from fine china.  He’s done enough damage, Harry tells himself.  He doesn’t want to hurt him even more than he already has.  So he guides him into the living room, where the soft carpet squishes beneath their bare feet.  They plop down on the couch, and Louis instantly pulls Harry in so his head is resting on his chest.

Harry feels Louis’s arm snake around him, enveloping him in warmth.  “I can’t believe I was such an arse to you,” he huffs.

“It’s okay.  Let’s just agree to never be apart for that long ever again.  I’m needy,” Harry giggles, rubbing his face into the crook of Louis’s neck.  He feels so scruffy and cozy, like an old teddy bear, and he can’t get enough of it.

“God, I missed you,” Louis hums, hands sliding down Harry’s back, index finger tracing down his spine.  He stops at his bum and pinches his left cheek.  Harry snickers into his neck, rolling his eyes.  “I also missed your bum, Harold.”

Harry hums in agreement.  “I missed your cock, Daddy.”

Louis nearly chokes on his tongue.  “You can’t just say stuff like that,” he insists.  Regardless, he squeezes his arse again, massaging his cheeks through his pants.  “I reckon those are my boxers?”

Harry looks up, stares into pair of sterling blue eyes.  “You knew that just by feeling them?” he laughs.

Louis smiles fondly.  “Well they’re quite small on you, love.”

“Yeah, well…” Harry begins, voice fading.  

“I’m gonna take a bath,” Louis announces.  “It was a long flight.  I feel quite gross to be honest.”

“Yeah, you look gross, too,” Harry jokes, sticking out his tongue.

Louis scoffs.  Is Harry even real?

“Thanks, babe,” he teases back.  “Care to join me?”

He’s never seen Harry run to the bathroom so quickly.

-

“You look high,” Harry giggles, leaning his head back on Louis’s shoulder.

They’re both in the tub now, with Harry sitting between Louis’s legs.  Louis’s got his arms wrapped securely around Harry’s waist, holding him still.  Harry can feel the pressure of Louis’s thighs caressing him, and his cock pressing against his back, and yeah, he really missed this.  Their feet are knocking together on the opposite side of the tub, and both of their ankle tattoos seem to blend together amongst the bubbles.

“What?” Louis asks, confusion threaded into his voice.  “You’re so weird, Harry.”

“No, I mean… your eyes are all puffy and red,” he continues.

“Yeah, that’s because you sprayed them with pepper spray, you twat,” Louis chuckles.

Harry giggles again and presses a kiss to the inside of Louis’s neck.  “Daddy gets high, but daddy takes care of business, right?”

Louis tenses up at that, but he forces out a short, one-syllable laugh.  “Yeah, darling.”

“Seriously, though,” Harry says, shifting in the tub. “Do your eyes feel better?”

“Yeah,” Louis admits.  He absentmindedly combs his hands through Harry’s wet, long hair.  Harry sighs into his touch as he begins to massage his scalp. “I think the steam helps, actually.”

“That’s good,” the youngest hums.  He traces his finger over Louis’s collarbone tattoo, and then he pinches his chin, tilting his face down.  He kisses him for a few seconds and then pulls apart, rubbing their noses together.

“I missed you,” Louis says for what seems like the millionth time.  “And I missed your cheesy jokes, and your smile, and your nice, little body.”

His hand slides down Harry’s ribs, and then reaches his bum, where his thumb slides between his crack.  Harry inhales sharply at the contact, eyes fluttering shut.

“Lou,” he huffs, voice already wrecked.

“What?” Louis asks innocently.  The tip of his thumb nudges towards Harry’s hole, wiggling a bit.  Harry’s lips quiver against Louis’s neck.  

“Lou, please,” Harry whines, shifting in the tub so Louis’s thumb nudges past his tight entrance.  The warm water laps over his chest and he can feel Louis’s hardening cock press against him.  

“What do you want, hm?” Louis asks.  “I want you to decide tonight.”

Harry feels like he can barely breathe, with Louis deliberately teasing him like this.  He grumbles something incoherently and ruts down, trying to feel more contact, but Louis takes his hand away.

“What was that?  I didn’t quite hear you.”

Harry groans in annoyance.  “I don’t know, Lou, you can—  you can decide.  I don’t like choosing.”

“Fine,” Louis announces.  Suddenly, Louis steps out of the bathtub, making the water shallower.  Harry looks up and blinks his shocked green eyes.

“W-what?” Harry asks.  Louis can’t be serious?  He can’t just tease him like that and then not do anything, right?

“Relax,” Louis snickers, reaching for Harry’s hand in the tub.  “I’m still gonna fuck you, okay?  I just really want to have sex in our bed.  I missed our bed.”

Harry sighs in relief and climbs out of the tub.  He shakes the moisture out of his hair, accidentally splashing some water on Louis.  The air feels significantly colder than the tub, he realizes.  Goosebumps begin to form on his porcelain skin.  He grabs a towel from the cabinet and wraps it around himself, and then hands one to Louis as well.

“You’re so goddamn cute,” Louis says, almost in disbelief.  He cups Harry’s jaw in his hand and snogs him, smiling against his wet, dripping lips.  

They continue to kiss whilst stumbling into their bedroom, blindly making their way down the short hallway.  Somewhere along the way their towels fall to the floor, not that it matters.  Harry isn’t cold anymore anyway.  He’s blazing hot, fire searing through his veins, ignited by the desire to please Louis.  He can feel his cheeks heating up and his fingertips burning, pressing into Louis’s bare sides.

Louis’s hands tangle in Harry’s soaked hair, twisting, pulling, and Harry’s whimpering past Louis’s lips.  Louis pulls Harry into their bedroom, nudging the door back with his bum.  He finds their giant bed in the center of the room, still unmade and messy with tangled sheets and scattered pillows.

“You’re such a pretty princess,” Louis breathes, parting their lips.

Harry blinks, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.  “How do you want me, Daddy?”

Louis feels a pang in his stomach.  He eyes Harry’s swollen cock, smirk nudging at the corners of his mouth.  “Actually, you’ve got any panties, darling?” he wonders, ignoring his question.

Harry bites his chapped lips.  “I— yeah.”

“Go put them on, yeah?  We’ve got all night.  I want you to enjoy this,” Louis says.

Harry scurries over to his dresser and opens up the first drawer.  He finds a sea of boxer shorts, tight underwear, and alas his secret stash of colorful panties.  He grabs the newest pair, the red lacy ones from Victoria’s Secret, and slips them on.  The fabric glides over his smooth thighs and curves over his bum.  He tucks in his cock, turning it at an angle so it fits.  It’s leaking precum, though, and Louis can see a dab of moisture soaking through the soft, scarlet material.

Louis steps towards his blushing boyfriend, eyeing him up and down like a masterpiece at a museum. Harry must be a work of art, Louis decides.  He must’ve been crafted by angels. Every part of him is so sharp yet so soft, so bright yet so dark, so fragile yet so robust.  He’s a contradictive work of art.

Louis smiles.  “Those look so good on you,” he says in awe.  

He places his hands on Harry’s hips and winds them around to his bum.  Harry gasps quietly when he feels Louis’s hands squeeze.  He can feel his hard cock press against the inside of his thigh, and he feels like weak suddenly, like he might collapse if Louis doesn’t get inside of him.  But he has a feeling that won’t be happening any time soon, given Louis’s tendencies to be a major tease.

“Lay on the bed, on your stomach.  I wanna eat that pretty arse of yours,” he murmurs into Harry’s ear.

Harry breathes sharply and complies, resting on his belly with his arms crossed.  He feels so exposed like this, just waiting for Louis to do something.  His toes curl and his hands twist in the soft, white sheets.  

And finally, he feels Louis’s fingertips ghost over his bum, “These look so nice on you,” he hums, hands splaying over Harry’s lace-covered arsecheeks.  

He can see his pale skin poking through the panties.  Harry withers beneath him, pushing his bum up in the air.  Louis chuckles and plays with the hem, feeling the soft fabric in between his fingers.

“Can I eat you out whilst you wear these?” Louis asks sinfully.  “I’d quite like that.”

Harry has to bite his bicep to stop from moaning.  “Fuck, yes,” he says, voice muffled.

“What was that?” Louis teases, raising his eyebrows.

“Yes!” Harry gasps impatiently.

Louis sighs and massages his hand over Harry’s arse.  “Relax, okay?  There’s no need to rush.”

“I know,” Harry chokes out.  “I just— fuck— I love your tongue.”

“I know, I know,” Louis hums.  His mouth is now hovering above Harry’s hole, breathing hotly against the lace.  He darts his tongue out to moisten it and Harry feels like he’s on fire.  The panties are thin enough that he can simply pull them aside with his finger, giving him access to Harry’s clenching hole.  

He pulls Harry’s cheeks apart, spreading him wide.  He darts around his rim and makes a circle motion with his tongue.  Harry can feel Louis’s scruff against his skin, scratching, and he knows he’ll have little red dots all over his bum in the morning… not that he’s complaining.

He darts his tongue past Harry’s tight rim, prodding, twisting, curling, and Harry just bites his bicep to stop his pathetic moans.  He can feel Louis’s teeth graze against his sensitive skin.  His tongue curls inside of him and then flattens again.  He clenches his eyes shut and lifts his hips further off of the mattress, pressing his bum into Louis’s face.

Every part of him feels wet, from his hair to his toes and now his insides, and his body is boiling, making him feel like a steamy, hot mess.  Louis’s fingernails dig into his bum cheeks as he pulls them apart, giving his tongue deeper access to Harry’s hole.  The pace is quicker now, following the same consistent path of poking and unrolling.

“ _Daddy_ ,” Harry says, voice cracking.  “I— oh my God—yes.”

“Want me to fuck you now?” Louis asks, breathing hotly against his entrance.

“Y-yeah, please.”

Louis hums and retrieves the dwindling bottle of lube.  He makes a mental note to buy more later.  

He settles between Harry’s spread thighs again.  He opens the cap, the sound sending shivers down the youngest’s spine.  Louis dabs a liberal amount onto his forefinger and middle finger.

“Ready?” Louis wonders.

“Yes,” Harry exhales.

Louis raises a brow.  “Yes, what?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

Louis’s lips curl up in a smirk.  His index finger circles around Harry’s wet rim, glistening with his spit.  He presses the tip inside, gives him a few seconds, and pushes down to the knuckle in one swift motion.  Harry whimpers at the intrusion, feeling Louis’s finger crook deep inside of him.  Something about this makes him feel on edge, but it’s a good feeling— a feeling of pleasurable anticipation.

“More, more, more!  Please,” Harry chants.  He doesn’t even know that he’s repeating himself.  He’s completely lost, head stuck in the clouds.

Louis chuckles and adds a second finger.  He gives Harry a moment to adjust, as his body tenses up and muscles clench around him.  

“You okay?” Louis asks, fingers filling Harry to the brim.

“ ‘m perfect,” Harry breathes.

Louis’s fingers twist inside of him and spread apart, and he feels a burning stretch in his abdomen, sharp and tight.  He changes the angle and begins to thrust his two fingers inside of him, easily slipping through the oozing lube.  He smells the artificial cotton candy in the air, and damn, Harry really  _is_  good enough to eat.

“Fuck!”  Harry jolts when Louis curls his fingers.  “There, there,  _right_  there.”

“There?” Louis teases, prodding at the same spot.

“Ah!” he cries in response.  “Please, Daddy.”

Louis swears under his breath.  He slips out his fingers, wiping the excess lube on the bedsheets.  He squirts out more lube into his hand and slicks up his length.  He pumps his cock a few more times, bringing it to its full hardness.

Harry turns his head back.  He sees Louis’s hard cock, bulging with veins at the side, precum bubbling at the tip.  He licks his lips and meets Louis’s intense blue eyes.  The redness seems to be gone now, he notices, but that thought is quickly pushed to the back of his mind.  He has more important things to deal with.

“Can I ride you?” Harry asks.

Louis’s jaw clenches.  “Yeah— fuck— of course, baby.”

Harry’s face practically lights up.  Louis leans back, lying down with his arms crossed beneath his head.  His erection looks somewhat painful now, fueling Harry’s desire to make him feel pleasured.  He kisses him for a few seconds, bum rocking over his hips.  Louis moans into his mouth, fingernails gripping Harry’s lace-covered hips.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” Louis presses on.

Harry smiles, dimples poking through his ivory cheeks, and slips down his panties.  Louis grabs his wrist to stop him.

“Keep them there, okay?” Louis says, pushing them down mid-thigh.  “They look so pretty on you, baby boy.”

Harry bites his bottom lip between his teeth.  Then he grabs Louis’s cock whilst straddling him, positioning the tip under his hole.  He slowly begins to sink down and his jaw falls open out of instinct.  Louis’s length fills him up, pressing up against his tight walls, burning, stretching.  He feels like he can barely breathe.  

Finally he settles on Louis’s hips, eyes wide and pricked with tears.  Harry feels tight and wet around Louis’s cock, clenching around his erection.  Louis reaches up and thumbs the corners of Harry’s teary eyes.

“Look at you, darling.  You’re doing so well.  And you look so gorgeous,” Louis groans, looking up at him lovingly, like he's the prettiest thing to ever walk the face of the Earth.

Spurred on by the compliment, Harry begins to move, rotating his hips in a circular motion.  Louis’s cock shifts inside of him and it feels so,  _so_ , good.

“Oh!” Harry gasps, feeling the head of Louis’s cock press against his prostate.  

His eyes blink shut, lashes fluttering against his flushed cheeks like butterfly wings.  He lifts himself up and slams back down, splaying his pale fingers over Louis’s tan stomach.   Louis resists every urge to thrust up inside of him.

Harry starts to bounce up and down on his cock, making short, quick movements with his hips.  His hair falls over his eyes, hiding his face in a curtain of wet, brown strands.  Each time he sinks down on Louis’s cock, his pace quickens, until he’s just rocking against him with sudden jolts of energy.  

“God, you feel so good,” Louis moans, gripping the hem of Harry’s panties.  They’re still stretched over his milky thighs, decorating his skin with beautiful lace.   They’re restricting his movements a little bit, but neither of them seem to mind.  

Louis’s cock hits his sweet spot again, and again, and again.  He cries out in pleasure, fingernails digging sharply into Louis’s chest.  His toes curl as he quickens his pace, bouncing on his cock like his life depends on it.  The sounds of slapping skin, Harry’s moaning, and Louis’s heavy breathing fill the room.  Harry’s cock is leaking now, twitching, approaching his orgasm.

“Close,” Harry warns, rotating his arse.  

Louis juts up his hips to meet him halfway.  “Gonna cum for daddy?  Cream all over your pretty panties and make daddy proud?”

Harry’s eyes roll back in pure ecstasy.  “I’m— oh my god.  Daddy!”

He screams out in pleasure as cums, shooting his load between them.  A string of “Louis” and “fuck” and “ah” tumble out of his mouth.  He cums all over their stomachs, riding Louis’s cock through his orgasm.  

Louis lifts Harry’s limp, weak body off of his cock, slipping out of him.  Harry winces at the loss but recovers when Louis caresses him.  He lays him down gently, handling him like a fragile china doll.  Harry looks blissed out and loopy with a silly smile on his face.  His breathing is fast and Louis can hear his heartbeat.

“Cum on my face,” Harry begs, making grabby motions towards Louis’s cock.

“Jesus Christ, Haz.  Really?”

“Yes, please.”

So Louis complies, pumping his cock until he orgasms, painting Harry’s blushed face with streaks of white.  Harry chases the stream of cum with his mouth, lips parting to catch the liquid on his tongue.  

“Oh my God,” Louis breathes, stomach clenching.  “Such a cum slut, aren’t ya’?”

Harry smirks and licks his lips, collecting the rest of it.  Louis is so goddamn lucky.  He can’t even believe it.  He collapses next to Harry, and his body feels weak and tired.  

Harry reaches over the edge of their bed and grabs one of their towels.  He wipes off their stomachs and his own inner thighs, where he’s still wet and sticky from the lube.  He pulls up his panties, and then he presses a short kiss to Louis’s lips.

“You did so well,” Louis says when he catches his breath.  He looks over at him with loving eyes.

Harry blushes at the compliment.  “Well, I missed you.”

“And I missed you too,” Louis replies, pouting his lips.  He opens up his arms, gesturing for Harry to come closer.  “C’mere.  I need my little spoon.”

Harry snickers and cuddles him, sighing in relief.  He slots up against his body.  Louis’s arms surround him in warmth, and he can feel his heartbeat against his shoulder like his own personal lullaby.  

“I love you,” Harry hums.  “Never leave me like that again, okay?”

“I won’t,” Louis reassures him, pressing a kiss to the top of his damp hair.  “I love you, too.”

(And needless to say, their Valentine's Day is absolutely lovely.)


End file.
